


As Cold As Ice

by KaseyBeth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: @totallyexhausted, All the chapters are currently out of order, Angst, Family, Like i said chapters aree out of order, M/M, Major Minor Character Death, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of child neglect, Nikolai was an amazing grandpa, Panic Attacks, Poor yurio, Posted on ff.net, Sickfic, VictUuri, Victuuri are good parents, When i figure out which order they should go ill put them right, Yuri's mom comes back, and tumblr, hurt/ comfort, more to come - Freeform, please be warned about chapter 3, she is terrible, some chapters are short, sorry - Freeform, sorry from spelling, stages of grief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 20:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12020223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaseyBeth/pseuds/KaseyBeth
Summary: Yurio had enough on his mind, enough to worry about, and having Katsudon and the Geezer watching him like a hawk, was not helping.





	1. You'll Be Okay, I'm Sure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo!!!  
> Please let me know if this is easier to read!!!  
> KB

All he wanted to do was sleep. The past four days had been hell, starting with the splitting headache he’d woken up with and the connecting flight cancellation due to terrible weather plagued across Canada. Being from Russia, Yurio was used to the snow, but being snowed in at an airport for a day and a half before Viktor gave up, declaring he was just going to drive the 8 hours to Toronto, hadn’t really been the highlight of his competition. Not to mention Viktor wasn’t the best driver. When they finally reached Toronto, a day later than expected, Yurio had gone against Viktor’s wishes and forced himself to the rink to make-up for lost time. It wasn’t until Yuuri had forcibly hauled him from the ice that Yurio finally decided it was time to rest. But even with his full 6 hours, all he really wanted to do, was sleep… And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he really didn’t feel that great either.

He started feeling off once they touched down in Canada, but with the competition, there was no way he was going to mention that to Yuuri or Viktor. He didn’t want to do or say anything that would prevent him from skating. Besides he’d already downed about 4 aspirin before they left for the rink this morning; he was just hoping it would freaking kick in. Yurio bit his bottom lip and folded his arms over the railing, watching JJ skate. His stomach turned violently and he bit back a groan, closing his eyes briefly to block out the light. He was next to skate, and with Viktor and Yuuri standing basically on top of him, there was no way in hell he would be able to relieve the nausea, or choke down some more Tylenol, without them knowing. He clinched his fists, breathing slowly, and waited for his stomach to calm down. He heard cheering and the announcer saying something about how magnificent JJ’s performance was. _Pathetic._

He felt someone nudge him gently and opened his eyes slowly, turning to face Yuuri. The Japanese skater was watching him closely, worry and concern already etched onto his face. Freaking great. Yurio turned back to face the ice, waiting for JJ to step out of the rink. He looked up in the stands scanning the sea of faces, hoping, that by some miracle, he’d see his grandfather sitting in the crowd. _He won’t be here stupid. He’ll never be. Because you fucked up._ Yurio grit his teeth, shook off Katsudon’s hand, and pushed away from the railing, making his way towards the ice. He felt the world sway for a second as his head protested at the sudden movement, and slammed into Viktor’s chest awkwardly. “Easy Yurio,” Viktor laughed gently, grabbing the teenager’s arm and standing him upright. He glanced down at Yurio, his face clouding with concern before glimpsing quickly at Yuuri who stood a few feet away. Yuuri shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms, coming closer to where the two skaters stood. He looked over at Yurio once more, taking in the kid’s pale face, tinted cheeks and sluggish movements. Yuuri bit his lip, hoping the kid would admit to being sick, or at least, stop trying to hide it. It had taken him and Viktor a while to figure it out, but it wasn’t until Viktor had to rip the sheets away from the teenager this morning, that they began to piece things together. Yurio was normally an early riser, (Yuuri and Viktor have gone into their kitchen several times early in the morning, finding the teenager eating a bowl of cereal, or texting on his phone), and the fact that he protested the idea of leaving his bed this morning, was worrying in its self. Yurio tried pushing away, smacking Viktor in the chest as JJ’s score was called again over the arena.

“Yurochka, you feel okay?” Viktor asked gently, reaching down to touch teenager’s forehead. Yurio smacked Viktor’s hand away and pushed away from Viktor harshly, only to fall against Yuuri. “Don’t touch me old man,” Yurio spat bitterly, glaring at Viktor. He was shaking by now, and he wiped his running nose with his sleeve. _Why was it so damn hot in here?_ Hurt flashed over Viktor’s face for a second before he shook his head, a soft smile returning to his face. _Why are you always smiling? It’s creepy_ , Yurio thought, taking his skate guards off, his hand pressed against Yuuri’s shoulder to steady himself. He turned and handed them to Yuuri, noticing for the umpteenth time that the Japanese skater was still studying him intently.

“Stop fucking looking at me, you pig!” Yurio yelled, crossing his arms. He had enough on his mind, enough to worry about, and having Katsudon and the Geezer watching him like a hawk, was not helping. He cleared his throat, stifling the cough trying to escape his lips, and sniffed softly, hoping he could hold off any sneezing until after the program. Yuuri gave him a gentle smile, “Yura, you sure you-” Yuuri started, reaching for the teen’s arm once more. Yurio’s name was called over the loud speaker and he winced slightly. God his head hurt.

“Ah! Fuck off Katsudon!” Yurio yelled, pushing Yuuri away from him harshly. He didn’t need this right now. He needed to get to the ice, it was his turn. The faster he got his performance over with, the faster he could go back to the hotel and sleep. And he really wanted to sleep. His head was killing him and his stomach was making him regret the protein bar he had forced himself to eat so Viktor would stop asking him questions. He stifled a cough and skated toward the center of the ice. He shivered slightly. He really didn’t need this right now.  
He was sick and tired of Viktor and that piglet trying to treat him like a baby. He wasn’t a baby, he was almost an adult; he was 16, almost 17; he was the Russian Punk for crying out loud! And the Russian Punk didn’t show weakness. Sure he felt like shit but there was no way in hell he was going to admit that to those two. He shuddered at the thought of them being all lovey-dovey with each other. It wasn’t their job to take care of him. It was his Grandpa’s, and he had left him. _NO! Don’t think about that right now! What is wrong with you! Concentrate! Yuri! Concentrate._ He let out a loud sigh and closed his eyes waiting for the music to start. He could hear Viktor yelling encouraging words from the sidelines and felt his stomach flip. Viktor and Yuuri were making him sick, with all their p.d.a. and their lovey-dovey bullshit. He would rather have his Grandpa here than those two. But he wasn’t going to come, he would never come… not anymore. Yurio inhaled sharply, feeling tears well in his eyes and bit the inside of his lip. He wasn’t going to cry. The Russian Punk didn’t cry… ever. He slowed his breathing and coughed again, calming himself down. _You must have a fever dumbass, that’s why you’re shaking, that’s why you keep thinking about Grandpa!_ He let out another sigh, and cleared his throat. He could feel sweat beginning to coat his body and shivered again despite the heat running off him. His headache was beginning to spread down his neck and he wondered if this was a good idea. He pushed this thought aside and opened his eyes. Then the music started.

…

_Fuck._ This was the first thought that crossed Yurio’s mind as he finished his performance. Sweat was dripping down his face now, and despite his performance, he was still cold. He sneezed loudly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and took a gentle bow. His stomach twisted again and he swallowed thickly, feeling his body growing numb. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ He needed to get off the ice, he needed get his skates off, and he needed to get away from the overly affectionate lovebirds, before he puked. He coughed, instantly regretting this decision as bile rose in his throat. He swallowed again and felt his stomach churn angrily. He needed to get to a bathroom. Now.

He clenched his fists, feeling his hands shaking and his face heating up. He skated to the edge of the ice quickly and roughly pushed past Viktor’s passionately emotional praises and Yuuri’s concerned looks. “Hey Yurio!” Yuuri call after him but the teenager didn’t bother turning around. Yuuri wasn’t his concern right now. They probably thought he was being a dick to them anyway… like always. But he didn’t care. He felt his body shaking and pushed past the journalists, fans, and paparazzi trying to bombard him with questions. He didn’t bother responding, he was too scared to anyway. He stifled another cough as his stomach lurched. _Fuck_. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

It wasn’t until his feet touched the tiled floor in the hallway, and he crashed to the ground, that he realized his fatal mistake. He forgot to take his skates off, or, at least, forgot to put his skate guards on. He tried his best to catch himself against the wall but his head reeled and his feet scraped across the foreign ground. He groaned, putting his hand to his mouth hoping he would have a chance. His stomach lurched again and the acidic taste of vomit filled his mouth. He felt the warm liquid coat his hands even before he hit the ground. He crashed to his hands and knees in a chaotic mess as his stomach continued to lurch and Yurio found himself puking up another round of acidic bile. He felt a gentle hand on the back of his neck, and turned slightly to see Yuuri squatting next to him. “Oh Yura,” Yuuri said softly, running his hands over the boy’s back, hoping to provide a small amount of comfort.

Tears streamed down Yurio’s face as he continued to retch. He sniffed loudly, hoping it was less obvious to the people surrounding him that the Russian Punk was crying. He wished he could wipe them away but his hands were too busy holding up his trembling body. He wished he could stop the tears from flowing down his face, he wished he could stop his stomach from rebelling against him, and he wished his headache would lighten up, but his whole body seemed to be fighting against him today. He wished his Grandpa was here. Yurio coughed again as another bout of vomit forced its way up his throat. He closed his eyes, concentrating on Yuuri’s hand on his back and the comforting words he was whispering to him. He hated this. He hated how bad he felt. He hated being sick. He hated how much he yearned for Yuuri’s comfort. He hated how much he wanted Yuuri to make it better.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay honey. Just get it up. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay,” Yuuri said softly, tucking a loose strand of Yurio’s hair behind his ear. He smiled slightly, thankful the teenager’s hair was still slightly tied up from his performance. Yuuri shifted closer again; he was doing his best to shield the puking teenager from the ongoing paparazzi a few feet away. Yurio pitched forward once more, expelling more stomach acid onto the ugly tiled floor. “Shh, Yurio, you’re okay. It’s okay baby, just relax. It’s alright. Just breathe.” Yuuri whispered again. He could feel the heat rolling off the younger skater, causing his worry to spike higher. The kid definitely had a fever, that much Yuuri could tell.

He’d never seen Yurio so sick. I mean yeah, he’d seen the boy throw up before, but he’d never seen him like this. He could hear Viktor talking loudly behind him, trying his best to distract the paparazzi towards him instead of Yurio, but Yuuri could still see the flashing of camera’s bouncing off the wall in front of him. Yurio groaned loudly, clenching his eyes shut, and Yuuri shrugged his jacket off gently and wrapped it around the teenager’s shaking frame. He pulled the kid to his feet, wrapping his arm around his waist as Yurio began to collapse into him. He pulled Yurio as close to him as he could, letting him rest his head against his shoulder, hoping it would shield him more from the vicious crowd.

Yuuri tried his best to go slow but he just wanted Yurio to be out of the paparazzi’s grasp. He felt the kid stumble, and tightened his grip. “Katsu- Y-Yuuri,” Yurio choked out softly. He gulped quickly as his body pitched forward again, spewing vomit down Yuuri’s shirt. Yuuri inhaled sharply and stopped, clutching Yurio’s waist and shoulder’s tightly, hoping to keep the kid upright. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m not mad. It’s okay.” he said gently. Yurio dropped his head against Yuuri’s shoulder again, groaning. His body felt like it was moving slowly, but his head was spinning. He just wanted to lie down.

Yuuri could feel the warm liquid soaking into his shirt and shuddered. He had been sick several thousand times before, so getting puked on wasn’t a big deal to him, but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. He could still hear Viktor talking to the crazed horde behind him and turned around to see his shadow outlined behind the door. Yuuri turned back around and scanned the open corridor for the nearest bathroom. After what seemed like an eternity, he found the locker room at the very end of the hall.

He helped Yurio sit down on one of the benches and knelt down to undo the boy’s skates. Yurio smacked his head against Yuuri’s shoulder, and groaned loudly, crossing his arms over his stomach. He really wanted to sleep. “I didn’t know someone so small could puke so much,” Yuuri joked as he continued to unknot the teenager’s skates. Yurio groaned again and Yuuri bit his bottom lip, anxiety and worry plastered to his face. If Yurio wasn’t willing to force a sarcastic comeback or yell at him, then this was bad.

Yuuri slid Yurio’s skates off and reached up to stop his glasses from falling off his nose. He put his hand on the teenager’s shivering back, “Yurio, hey, how do you feel now?” he asked quietly. Yurio swallowed and mumbled something incoherent into Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri ran his hand over the boy’s shoulder blades, and stood up gently. Yurio kept his head down. He didn’t want to look Yuuri in the eyes. He couldn’t look Yuuri in the eyes. He wanted his Grandpa. His stomach clenched, and his mouth began to fill with saliva and watery stomach acid. He crossed his arms tighter around his stomach.

Yuuri ran his hand through the teenager’s sweaty hair, the two braids no longer present in his blonde locks, “let’s get you cleaned up some huh? Then we’ll get you back to the hotel.” He said gently. Yurio shook his head letting out a wet cough, “Y-Yuuri-” he panted. His breathing hitched and he leaned forward, clenching his mouth shut. Yuuri quickly grabbed the kid’s arm forcing him to his feet, leading him towards a bathroom stall.

Once inside Yurio dropped to his knees, hard. He hung his head over the small bowl and began choking up whatever was trying to tear his body apart. His body lurched violently and vomit spewed past his dried lips, rubbing harshly against his already raw throat. His stomach lurched again and again until he was sure he was going to start throwing up organs. Yuuri sat next to him, trying to offer comfort to the sick kid by rubbing small circles in his back and whispering comforting words. Yurio’s back was slick with sweat; his face was the color of the white tile beneath him, and his body shivered harshly. He whimpered loudly, sucking in a ragged breath, trying his best to will his stomach to stop. He felt tears pricking at his eyes again and he closed them, hoping to stop them from leaving. He really wanted his Grandpa.

Yuuri heard the locker room door open and turned to see Viktor leaning against the stall door, a sympathetic look masking his face. Yurio coughed again, sucking in air harshly as another thin stream of vomit escaped his mouth. He moaned again, swallowing loudly, and tried his best to slow his breathing. Yuuri turned back towards the boy, running his hand over the kid’s sweaty back once more. Viktor removed his gloves, sticking them in his pocket and grabbed some paper towels from the canister on the wall. He walked back over to the heaving boy and slid down gently next to Yuuri.

Yurio heard the toilet flush as he leaned back against the wall, shakily. He was so tired. So fucking tired. His throat hurt like hell, and his stomach, thankfully no longer nauseous, burned. He sneezed loudly and groaned as someone pressed their hand to his forehead. He opened his eyes to a spinning room, and blinked a few times trying to clear his vision. The harsh lights burned his eyes. He really really wanted to sleep.

Viktor was now kneeling in front of the teenager, his hand pressed against his burning forehead, his other touching Yuuri’s. A frown was plastered to his face and he pressed his lips together firmly. He dropped his hand from Yuuri’s forehead and turned to give him a worried expression. Yuuri asked him something in Japanese, and Viktor nodded. He gently moved his hand from Yurio’s forehead to his cheek, “You have a fever Yura,” He whispered sadly.

Yurio shrugged, feeling his throat tighten and tears swelling in his eyes. For the millionth time tonight, he wanted his Grandpa. He didn’t want to be crammed into a tiny bathroom in a foreign place, in a foreign country, with these two. He didn’t want Yuuri and Viktor to be the ones who had to take care of him. It wasn’t their job. He didn’t want this to be happening. He didn’t want to be here. _Don’t be weak. Don’t be weak. The Russian Punk isn’t weak. Don’t cry. Grandpa would tell you not to cry._ He swallowed harshly and wiped his nose again as Yuuri handed him some crumpled paper towels. He wiped his chin harshly and threw the paper in the trash next to the toilet. He slammed back against the wall behind him as tears began to slide down his face. He tried to say something sarcastic but all that came out was a half-choked sob. He clenched his teeth as Viktor looked down at him again, confusion etching across his face, “Why the tears Yurio?”

Yurio shook his head slowly before bursting into tears, “I’m-I’m sorry.” He wiped roughly the tears that streamed down his cheeks. _You made them worry, you stupid kid. Now Katusdon won’t sleep, and Viktor will call you a softy because you’re weak. Yakov would be disappointed with you. You’re supposed to be strong like a soldier. It’s not their job to look after you. You should be able to look after yourself. You should’ve been able to look after Grandpa! If he was here, he’d know what to do to make you feel better. He should be here…. Not these two!_

Panic painted Yuuri’s face as he continued to wipe off the boy’s costume, he shifted slightly giving Viktor an alarmed look. Yurio never cries, ever. He turned back to face the boy, “Shh, Yurio, it’s okay. It’s going to be alright.” Yurio gulped loudly letting out another rough cough and Viktor winced slightly because his cough sounded bad. Viktor ran a hand through Yurio’s sweaty hair and took some of the paper towels from Yuuri, who was desperately trying to calm the sobbing teenager. “Why are you sorry koneko?” He asked softly, wiping Yurio’s hands with one of the towels. Yuuri got up carefully, walking over to the sink and grabbed a few more towels before running them under the water.

Yurio wiped again at the tears that fell from his eyes, wincing as his head throbbed under the florescent lights. He felt something wet touch his forehead and flinched, realizing Yuuri was crouched next to him now, his hand pressing a wet paper towel to his overheated forehead. He ran his thumb across Yurio’s cheek, wiping some of the tears that streamed down his pale face. “Why are you sorry?” He asked gently. Yurio let out another sniff, trying to calm down, “I’m sorry I ruined your shirt, and threw up… I’m sorry I’m making you worry more and that you have to look after me. And I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” He coughed again as Yuuri motioned for Viktor to hold the towel against the teenager’s forehead, “And- and I’m sorry I embarrassed you, and that I’m all nasty and sweaty, and that I’m crying… I just- I don’t want to look weak because you’re aren’t weak and I’m not a baby. And I really, I don’t feel well, and I want my Grandpa…”

Yurio trailed off, his English cutting into Russian. Yuuri’s heart broke at the last statement, and he stopped himself from pulling the boy into a hug. He looked over at Viktor, who looked downright alarmed as he tried his best soothe the teenager by talking to him in Russian. Yuuri ran his hand through the Yurio’s hair once more and got up gently, walking over to his bag laying across the locker room bench. He started rummaging through it, hoping to find a water bottle, and looked up as the locker room door swung open, and Christophe stepped through.

Christophe stood there, staring at Yuuri for a brief second before turning his attention towards the two Russians sitting on the floor in the stall. A smirk crossed his face slowly as he turned back towards Yuuri, “What, the poor tike tired already?”

“Get out,” Yuuri growled, hearing Viktor still talking to Yurio behind him. Christophe looked taken back for a second before he nodded, “Fine, I was just coming in here to change anyway.” Yuuri adjusted his glasses and pushed the bag aside as Christophe turned to leave.

“Wait,” he cleared his throat, “do you have any water?”

Christophe eyed him again before walking over to a locker and pulling out a bottle of water, handing it to Yuuri. “Here,” he said softly. Yuuri thanked him and turned around before he felt someone touch his arm.

“Yuuri, I was joking. I didn’t mean any harm.” Christophe whispered.

Yuuri nodded, “I know.”

Yuuri crouched once more besides Yurio, handing the teenager the bottle of water and letting him take a few sips before screwing the cap back on. Yurio was quiet now except for the soft sniffing and silent tears that fell from his eyes softly. Viktor sighed as Yuuri leaned back against the opposite wall from Yurio, his hand brushing against Yuuri’s.

Yurio swallowed, leaning his head against the wall, wishing he could fall asleep. His headache, which had started behind his eyes had now moved, embedding itself into his jaw bone, painting across his cheeks. Yuuri leaned forward slightly, “I’m really sorry you don’t feel well Yura,” he said softly, taking the water from the teenager, “and believe me, if there was something I could do to take it away, or switch places with you, then I would in a heartbeat.” He looked at Viktor, smiling slightly, before turning back to face Yurio, “but you don’t need to apologize.”

Yurio coughed again, wiping his nose on Yuuri’s jacket, and looking at Viktor. Viktor laughed gently, “Honestly Yurio, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve embarrassed myself in front of the paparazzi.”

Yuuri brushed some hair from the kid’s face gently, “And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve puked in front of them.”

Viktor shook his head, his silver hair covering his face momentarily, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, it happens. You should never have to apologize for being sick. We’re not mad… I am sorry though, I don’t think I got to all of the cameras in time, so I do apologize if you show up in some tabloid,” He paused, pulling Yuuri’s jacket further on Yurio’s shoulder as the teenager shivered, “But Yurio, Yuuri and I, we’re not mad or embarrassed.”

Yuuri laughed softly, “I’m not mad about my shirt either Yura. It’s a shirt, and if I’m being completely honest, I don’t even like it-“

Viktor scoffed dramatically, throwing his short hair behind his shoulder and putting his hand to his mouth, “I gave you that shirt as a birthday gift!” Yurio blinked a few times, looking over at Yuuri, who sat there looking completely mortified. Yuuri gulped loudly, “I-I- Vitya-”

Viktor burst out laughing, “I’m only joking love, I have no idea where you bought that awful shirt.”

Yuuri shook his head as Yurio snorted before breaking out in a coughing fit. He felt a hand on his shoulder and leaned his head back against the wall and wiping his nose with some of the paper towels Yuuri handed to him. The locker room was quite for a few minutes. Outside the crowd was yelling something, and the announcer’s voice boomed through the arena.

“Yurochka listen,” Viktor began, putting his hand under the teenager’s chin gently, forcing him to look at him, “There is nothing more on this earth that I wish for more than to be able to bring your Grandfather back. I’m so sorry I can’t. I truly am,” Viktor sighed softly, wiping some tears that still fell from Yurio’s eyes with his thumb, “…But after he- When Yuuri and I agreed to let you stay with us, for as long as you wanted to, we agreed knowing full well what we were getting into. Trust us koneko, we agreed to take care of you, to be there for the good and the bad of Yuri Plisetsky, whether that be wins, birthdays, breaks, or illnesses, because we care about you. You’re our family now and we love you all the same Yura, no matter what. Nothing you do, or say could possibly change that...” Viktor was quiet for a second, “…But don’t you ever think that we view you as weak, because you, Yuri Plisetsky, are anything but. You are so much stronger than any of these other skaters out here, and a few tears aren’t going to take that away from you.”

“And honestly Yurio, you’re worth more to us than some ugly shirt that Viktor gave to me on Valentine’s Day,” Yuuri said softly, shaking the water in front of the groggy teenager willing him to take a drink.

“It was your birthday, love.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes as Yurio took a slow sip, “Yura, I’m not embarrassed by you being so sick, or puking in front of people, or on me, for that matter; and I’m always worried. That’s just who I am. I lay awake at night worrying about the amount of orange juice we have in the fridge. You can’t change that, trust me, Viktor has tried.”

Viktor nodded gently, wiping the remaining tears from Yurio’s cheeks with the edge of his jacket. Yurio sneezed again and cleared his throat. He closed his eyes, setting the water down on the floor next to him, crossing his arms over his stomach. He was still freezing but he could feel sweat dripping down his face.

Yuuri sighed before laughing softly, “And I know you didn’t tell us because you wanted to skate, but Viktor and I, we would have figured something out. We’re not as bad as you might think. I am truly sorry you feel so lousy, and we want to make you feel better. We want to help, but you have to let us Yurio. You have to tell us if you feel this bad.”

Viktor nodded again, and Yurio heard him sigh softly, “but if it’s any consolation, you were amazing out there today.”

Yuuri laughed again, running his fingers through Yurio’s hair, “You did an incredible job, especially being this sick.”

Yurio opened his eyes slightly as Viktor stood up, pulling Yuuri to his feet gently.

“Now, how about I go grab our stuff from the arena, and Yuuri helps you to the car? Hmmm? Then we can go back to the hotel, and we can all get some much needed rest? Does that sound okay?” Yurio nodded softly pressing his palms to his eyes, trying to wipe away the remaining moisture. His arms felt heavy and he found moving them to be a difficult task in its own. He shivered again, letting out a small cough. He felt someone slip something warm over him and looked down to see Viktor’s jacket around his shoulders. He pushed his arms through slowly, and pulled it close, thankful for the extra warmth. He blinked a couple times trying to clear his vision, and felt Yuuri pulling him to his feet. His vision faded for a second as his knees buckled and his stomach clenched. He groaned softly as Yuuri put his arm around his shoulder, leading him towards the door and out into the wintery hell. Yurio shivered again as snow brushed against his face and he leaned heavily against the Japanese skater.

“You’re doing great kid,” Yuuri said gently, pulling Yurio closer, shivering slightly as the cold air touched his skin.

The walk to the car was painful to say the least. The snow was beginning to come down harder than it had this morning, and Yuuri was thankful the hotel was only an hour away. He sighed softly, feeling the teenager shiver again despite the heat that soaked through his clothes. He bit his lip as the question of stopping at a drug store crossed his mind. They hadn’t really brought any medication with them except some Aspirin, and a few Ibuprofen, and they definitely didn’t have anything for fevers. He turned to look over his shoulder to see Viktor a few feet behind him, talking with someone who looked like a reporter. Yuuri rolled his eyes and walked over to the car. He helped Yurio into the back seat before climbing in gently.

He felt squished in the tiny backseat but he figured it would be better to be back here incase Yurio puked again, especially since this was a rental. He reached over, putting the keys in the ignition and starting the car before leaning back against the seat. Yurio scooted closer to him, mumbling something in Russian that Yuuri didn’t catch, before laying his head in the older skater’s lap. He drew his knees against his chest and pulled Viktor’s coat closer to him. Yuuri smiled softly, “Get some rest Yurio, we’ll be there soon.” He ran his fingers gently through the blonde’s hair, humming softly, and waited for Viktor to walk to the car.


	2. Always And Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned that this contains character death and stages of death (will be continuing theme throughout chapters)

_This can’t be real. This isn’t real. It’s not real._ Yurio bit his lip and leaned against the wooden door behind him, pressing his back against the cool frame, listening to Yuuri and Viktor talking softly outside. He closed his eyes briefly as chills ran down his spine and he pressed the lock on the bathroom door, letting out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against the white wood. Makkachin scratched at the door gently, shoving her paws under the door as Yurio stood up straighter.

Yurio let out a sigh, scrubbing at the tears pricking his eyes and looked down at the ugly black suit he had wrapped around his body. _It’s not real._ He slid his fingers under his tie, loosening it slightly as he forced it over his head, throwing it on the ground harshly. He shrugged his jacket off and let the heavy fabric fall to the ground with a soft thud. The 16-year-old reached up, unbuttoning the small hard buttons of his white collared shirt and swallowed loudly. _This isn’t real._

He ripped the shirt over his head throwing it against the wall, his breathing hitching as it hit the plaster with a small thwack. He glanced down at the black cat shirt that was still stuck to his chest, it’s old fabric pilled and loose on his skinny frame. The thread at the bottom of the shirt was fraying, and had Yuuri or Viktor known he was wearing it, would have made him take it off. Yurio grasped at the fabric on the bottom of his shirt, trying to sum up enough energy to take it off. _This can’t be real_. Yurio let go of the fabric, clenching his hands into fists, letting his nails dig beneath his skin.

Nausea swelled in his stomach and Yurio gripped the sink as he stared down at the white porcelain beneath him. His stomach lurched and the teenager turned the water on, drowning out the sound of retching as his stomach heaved up what little he had in him. He hadn’t eaten much these last few days, so he wasn’t surprised that the only thing that had come up was foul tasting saliva and stomach acid.

Yurio ran his hands under the cold water, cupping his hands and splashed water on his face, hoping to wake up, hoping to force himself from this nightmare. _This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. It can’t be._ Yurio turned the water off slowly, letting the water drip from his face and soak into his shirt as he glanced at his reflection in front of him. His face looked pale and lifeless, dark circles etched under his eyes as red puffy eyes stared back at him, filled with saddened hatred. _It should have been you._

Yurio pushed away from the sink and fell against the wooden door with a loud thunk. He heard Yuuri and Viktor pause their conversation briefly, and he wondered how they could go on. How could they go on with their lives when Yurio’s whole world was collapsing in on him? How could someone watch him die. _How could you watch him die?_

Yurio buried his head in his hands, running his shaky hands through his blonde locks, and pressed his back against the door until the wooden doorframe hurt his spine. He swallowed roughly and sucked in a harsh breath as he brought his knees to his chest, pressing his back against the door harder, hearing a small crack in the wood. _It’s not real. It should have been you. This isn’t real. It should have been you. How could you watch him die? How could you just have stood by and done nothing! This isn’t real. If you knew, if you paid attention more then you could have saved him._

Yurio slammed his head against the wooden door behind him as tears stung his eyes again. He watched as the towels slung over the towel rack dropped to the floor lazily. He heard a soft knock at the door and closed his eyes, drowning out Yuuri’s soft voice echoing through the other side of the wood. He didn’t want to be here. Yurio slammed his head against the door again, listening as the wood split, feeling the pieces begin to poke his back. He sucked in a ragged breath feeling his face heating up and let out a choked sob as Yuuri knocked on the door once more.

He forced himself to his feet, glancing at his face one more in the mirror, watching as tears spilt over their tired rims, burning against his pale cheeks. _This isn’t real! Why are you crying!_ Yurio grit his teeth, curling his hands into fists until he felt nails pierce his skin, stinging against the newly raw flesh. He slammed his hands against the white porcelain and watched as tiny blood droplets splattered against the white sink, sliding down into the bowl peacefully. Yuuri knocked again. _He was all you had. And now he’s gone! Just like you._

Yurio bit his lip until it bled, biting back the breath caught in his throat. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. It didn’t look like him. His green eyes were lifeless and dull, lost and broken. His face looked dead, hell maybe he was dead. He felt dead. He wanted to be dead. He wanted to die.

Nikolai flashed in front of Yurio’s face as tears filled his eyes again, spilling down his face, and he sucked in a harsh breath, feeling his body beginning to shake. The air that was forced into his lungs was hard to breath, was hard to release and Yurio coughed roughly trying to clear his airways.

Four days. It had been four days since his grandfather died, and despite attending his funeral merely hours ago, Yurio had convinced himself it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Because if it was, then that would mean Yurio would have no one left. It would mean he was alone. _If you’re alone it’s because you push everyone away!_ He bit his lip harder, feeling blood drown his mouth and watched as it trickled down his chin as memories flooded back to him in waves.

……………………

_Yuri was six and it was two months after he came to live with his grandfather. He scooted closer to the bed, grasping at his stuffed cat as lightning lit up the room, casting scary shadows against the ugly wallpaper. He jumped quickly, running toward the bed as thunder clapped overhead, emitting a small shriek from the six-year-old. Yuri grasped at his grandfather’s hand that was hanging off the side of the bed, his tiny fingers only wrapping around one of Nikolai’s. “Yurochka? Are you alright?” Nikolai asked softly, his voice gruff from sleep. He turned on the light, glancing down at the small boy standing at the edge of the bed. Yuri jumped again as thunder echoed off the walls, causing the lights to flicker violently. “C-Can I sleep here… please,” Yuri said softly, looking down at the small gray cat clutched in his hands. Nikolai smiled softly, “Of course you can, my boy.”_

……………………

_Yuri was eight, sitting on the counter, licking cake batter from a wooden spoon, watching his grandfather decorate a cake for his birthday. His grandfather was singing to one of the songs playing on the radio and he would turn and point to Yuri when the solo came on, motioning for his grandson to sing. Yuri laughed loudly, singing words he didn’t know to a song he’d never heard before as his grandfather danced around the kitchen, pretending to drop batter on the floor. “Grandpa, you’re so crazy!” Yuri yelled loudly as the next song came on. Nikolai turned around to face his grandson, “I might be crazy my boy, but all the good people are.” Yuri laughed loudly as he started singing the next solo…_

………………………..

_Yuri was eleven and he was sitting at the table, letting his grandfather patch up the bruises and cuts that littered his feet. Nikolai glanced over at his grandson’s skates that were thrown on the floor haphazardly, and looked back down at the blood he was wiping away from Yuri’s feet. Tears were sitting in Yuri’s eyes but he wasn’t crying. “Perhaps tomorrow, we’ll go get new skates, Yurochka,” Nikolai said softly, pouring some alcohol on a towel and wrapping Yuri’s right foot in it. The boy jumped, gripping his seat, biting his lip. “We can’t afford new skates Grandpa,” Yuri said softly, yanking his right foot back and slowly lending his grandfather his left foot. Nikolai laughed, “I’m sure we can figure something out.” Yuri looked back at his grandfather to find him smiling…_

………………………………

_Yuri was 14 and he had just won his first national cup. The season had been hell, and it had taken a toll on the younger’s body. He was laying on the couch, shirtless, covered in an ancient blanket that his grandfather had found when cleaning out the attic. His stomach heaved and Yuri groaned loudly, having nothing left to throw up. He’d been up all night, puking up anything and everything, including the soup Nikolai had made him eat. He closed his eyes as the world spun and turned on his stomach, letting his right arm hang off the couch, feeling Potya nipping at his fingers gently._

_He felt the couch dip down and something cold press against his forehead, letting liquid drip down his face. Yuri swallowed loudly, reaching up to touch the thing on his forehead. A calloused hand caught his gently, “Leave it Yurochka. It’ll help bring your fever down. Ill change it out later when I make some more soup.” Yuri groaned again, coughing roughly. Nikolai slid his hand across Yuri’s shoulders, pressing his fingers against the knots present under his grandson’s skin. “Get some rest Yuri. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered softly, running his hand over Yuri’s shoulders again…_

…………………………………

_“I- I can’t do this without you Grandpa,” Yurio said softly, grasping his grandfather’s hand in his. He ran his finger’s over the wrinkled old skin, careful not to pull on any of the tubes or IV’s protruding from Nikolai’s hands. Yurio glanced at the heart monitor’s above the hospital bed, watching as each breath Nikolai took mirrored the blip on the monitors above. “Yes, you can, Yurochka,” Nikolai said weakly. Yurio glanced back down at his grandfather, tears spilling over his rims, dripping down his face, splattering against his grandfather’s skin. Yurio felt someone touch his shoulder and flinched, looking up to see Viktor standing next to him, tears glistening against his face and a sad smile etched across his tired face, “They said it would be any minute now Yura.”_

_Yurio turned back towards his grandfather, shaking his head. He pressed his grandpa’s hand against his lips, squeezing his hand in his. “I-I can’t- I- Grandpa, please don’t go,” Yurio choked out. Nikolai reached a hand over and wiped away some of the tears that fell from Yurio’s eyes. “I will never truly be gone, my boy,” he said softly, pausing briefly to cough roughly; Yuuri wiped some spit that had slid down Nikolai’s chin with some of the tissues in his hand._

_“Yurochka, I will always be a part of you. Always and forever,” Nikolai whispered. He closed his eyes and motioned for Yurio to come closer. Yurio felt his body being pushed forward softly, a firm hand on his shoulder, planting him on the ground. Yurio leaned closer, listening to the heart monitors slowing above, causing Yurio to flinch every time the machine blipped. Nikolai squeezed his grandson’s hand tightly, “Yuri, I have made many mistakes in my life, but you weren’t one of them, my boy. You would never be one of them…”_

_Yurio felt strong arms wrap around his chest as he realized he was sinking to the floor, silence falling over his ears and he stared at the flatline zooming across the monitors. He grasped at Nikolai’s hand in his, willing the old man to squeeze back, realizing that his grandfather’s grasp had weakened around his. He felt the arms around his chest tighten, pulling him up, pulling him to his feet, pulling him away from his grandfather as Nurses and Doctors rushed around him._

_“Yuri, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri said softly, grabbing Yurio’s hand, unclasping it from Nikolai’s so the Doctors could get to his grandfather. Yurio flinched as everything sped up and he realized he wasn’t holding his grandpa’s hand anymore. He pushed against the arms restraining him, trying to push himself away from the person holding him, kicking at the legs that scooted him back as Yuuri’s hands tried grasping his. Yurio pushed Katsudon away harshly, pushing against his captor again, dropping to his dead weight as he struggled to get free, angry curse words leaving his mouth._

_Viktor kept one arm wrapped tightly around the teenager’s chest as he pressed the other against the boy’s forehead, trying to steady him. “Don’t you fucking touch him! Don’t you fucking do it! Get away from him!” Yurio yelled loudly, pushing back against Viktor’s chest, ignoring the soft Russian Viktor was trying to use to calm the boy down. Yurio slammed against Viktor’s chest harshly causing the older Russian to fall against the Nurse counter, as Yuuri tried grasping at Yurio’s arms, trying to calm him down. Yurio pushed at Yuuri again, ducking around the Japanese skater, running past him._

_“Don’t fucking touch him!” Yurio yelled loudly, standing in the doorway, reaching again for his grandfather’s hand as Nurse’s and Doctor’s tried to keep him from entering the small room. “Get your hands off him!” the teenager yelled again, pushing past a Doctor, grasping at his grandpa’s hand once more. Yurio watch as a white sheet was draped over his grandfather’s body as a Nurse pushed him out the door. He felt strong arms wrap around his torso once more, his face pressed against someone’s chest as cool fingers carded through his sweaty hair gently. Yurio pushed against the person holding him roughly, feeling his knees shaking as exhaustion flooded his body. He pushed against the person as a sob escaped his throat, as Yurio’s arms fell loosely at his side._

_“I’m sorry Yuri. I’m so sorry Yuri. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” Viktor whispered softly, his lips pressed into the boy’s hair as he rocked the teenager on his feet, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Viktor held the boy tightener as Yurio’s legs gave out beneath him and he crashed against Viktor’s chest roughly. He gripped at Viktor’s coat as sobs escaped his throat, “Grandpa. Come back. Please come back. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”_

_Viktor ran his hand through Yurio’s hair again, pressing his lips against his forehead as silent tears fell from his eyes. He stood there rocking the teenager back and forth, staring distantly though the small window to Nikolai’s room, continuing to chant, “I’m sorry Yuri. I’m so sorry.” Viktor felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Yuuri stand next to him, tears falling down his sad face. He put his arm around the shaking teenager, while his other rested across Viktor’s. Viktor closed his eyes as Yuuri pressed his forehead against his. Yuuri ran his hand through Yurio’s hair gently as Viktor continued to repeat the only phrase he could push past his lips, letting the boy sob loudly into his chest._

……………………………….

“If I wasn’t a mistake then why’d you fucking leave me!” Yurio yelled loudly, slamming his fist into the mirror in front of him. He heard the crack of glass as it shattered beneath his knuckles, and stood for a second watching it fall to the white counter, littering the white innocence in ugly black slivers. He looked down at his knuckles, watching as blood bubbled to the surface of his hand, spilling over the busted flesh, splattering against the blue rug below him. He heard Viktor and Yuuri screaming at him through the wood as they banged against the door, and he heard Yuuri yelling at Viktor for a key.

Yurio glanced up at the mirror in front of him, seeing the giant bare wall behind the mirror where his fist had collided, staring at his face through the cracks etched into the shiny reflection. _It’s broken, just like you. It looks like how you feel._ Yurio clenched his fists again, feeling anger bubbling in his chest and tears poured down his face. His grandfather was dead and it was his fault! 

Yurio swept the soap dispenser and toothbrush holder off the counter, watching it slam against the wall, shattering into a million pieces. He ripped the towels from the wall, pulling the holder off the blue plaster, and let out a choked sob as memories flooded back to him. Yurio flung the drawers from the counter, hurling whatever contents they held against the door, watching as the door splintered harshly. He put his hands to his head, pressing his palms against his eyes, hoping to stop the memories that flowed in as blood dripping down his right hand, the air around him sitting frozen in his lungs.

He felt like he was dying. He felt alone and numb, and he wanted to wake up. He wanted to wake up and go downstairs and see his grandfather sitting at the table reading the paper or making breakfast. He wanted to see his smile again and hear his laugh and he wanted his grandfather to hug him again, to tell him that it was okay, that he was going to be alright. He wanted to see his grandpa cheering him on at his performances and to help him with his routine. He wanted his grandfather back, and it didn’t matter if his grandfather had let go because Yurio wasn’t ready to let go. He didn’t want to let go, he wasn’t ready. Not yet!

He coughed loudly, trying to force oxygen in his lungs as he realized he was hyperventilating, as he realized he couldn’t breathe. His lungs ached from lack of air and his heart ached from the emotional pain that plagued his body. He grasped onto the shower curtain as his world tipped sideways and he felt his body slam against something hard. Something smacked against his head and Yurio’s whole world turned black for a second. He moved his hands over his face, pulling the shower curtain away from his head as he tried sucking in air. He couldn’t breathe. His body wasn’t letting him breathe.

The bathroom door burst open as Viktor and Yuuri pushed through. Yurio tried to breathe again, coughing out any remaining oxygen that was in his throat, and he wheezed violently, grasping onto Yuuri’s shirt as the Japanese skater helped him sit up straighter. Panic was painted across Yuuri’s face and he was saying something that Yurio couldn’t make out. The teenager gripped Yuuri’s clothes tighter as he wheezed again. Viktor cupped the boy’s face in his hands before letting it fall loosely from his fingers. He turned towards the shower knobs, turning on the cold water, biting his lip as it washed over Yurio’s shaking frame. He knelt down in front of Yurio again, running his fingers through the boy’s hair as Yuuri placed a hand on the teenager’s chest.

“Yurio, breath,” Yuuri said sternly. Water was coating his glasses, making it harder to see the teenager’s frantic eyes. Yurio sucked in a wheezy breath, closing his eyes as the rough oxygen scraped against his throat. Viktor ran a hand through the boy’s hair again, “Relax Yurio. You’re okay. Just relax.”

“Just breath Yura. In and out. In and out,” Yuuri said softly, his hand resting firmly against the teenager’s wet chest, keeping him grounded. Yurio breathed deeply letting the air occupy his deprived lungs as the cold water that washed over him sent shivers down his spine. He felt his breathing catch in the back of his throat and let out another sob as he opened his eyes to look at the two adults sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Yuuri unclasped the teenager’s hand from his shirt but Yurio grasped at his hand instead, causing the Japanese skater to look back down at the teenager strewn across the bathtub.

“I’m alone! I’m all alone! And I don’t want to be alone! I don’t want to be alone,” Yurio cried loudly, gripping Yuuri’s hand tightly in his. Confusion etched across Viktor’s face as he turned the water off, grabbing one of the towels on the floor, wrapping it around the boy’s slender frame. Yurio let go of Yuuri’s hand and clutched at the towel draped around his shaking shoulders. He tried to move, his feet sliding across the wet floor in front of him as he pressed his back against the wall behind him. Viktor moved the shower curtain and pole away from the trembling teen, handing Yuuri a towel to dry off with. He made a move to wrap the towel tighter around the boy’s shoulders but Yurio flinched away. Viktor sighed loudly.

Viktor groaned softly as he sat down next to Yurio, sprawling his legs out in front of him so they hung off the side of the tub. He winced slightly as his joints protested the cramped space and he shivered as water soaked through his jeans and boxers. He wrapped his arm around the boy, and smiled softly as Yuuri climbed over the edge, sitting on the other side of Yurio. Yuuri flexed his legs, nudging Yurio’s foot gently with his shoe, and placed his arm on top of Viktor’s, over the boy’s shoulders. Makkachin came into the destroyed bathroom slowly, sniffing the ground cautiously before licking the bottom of Yurio’s foot. She whined loudly and placed her head on the edge of the bathtub, her tail wagging slowly.

“I’m all alone now,” Yurio whispered softly, wiping the tears that fell down his face with the towel around his shoulders, “I don’t have anyone left.”

“You have us,” Yuuri said softly, sweeping some of Yurio’s hair away from his eyes. Yurio snorted, “No I don’t. I’m not stupid. I’ll be shipped off somewhere soon and I’ll probably never see you again. I’ll never skate again.” Yurio leaned his head against the wall behind him.

Viktor watched the expression on Yurio’s face change as Nikolai’s words echoed in his head:

_…I fear if I leave him without someone to look after him, Yuri will self-destruct. He’s done it before. He holds so much emotion inside him, and experiences them all fully, but I’m afraid he is not the best at expressing them. I’m to blame for that…_

Viktor reached forward and scratched Makkachin’s head, causing her to huff. He leaned back again and glanced once more down at the shivering teenager. Yurio looked so young, he was acting so young… or was he acting his age? Viktor didn’t know. The boy was always so hard and tough on the outside that no one ever really saw what was inside. _Was this it then?_ Viktor wiped some leftover water droplets from the boy’s forehead gently.

“You don’t know that Yura. And whether you chose to stay or chose to leave, you will always have me and Yuuri,” he said softly, “And Makkachin.”

Yuuri laughed softly as the teenager cracked a smile, “and Potya.”

Viktor laughed, “Yes, and Potya.”

He grasped at the teenager’s right hand gently, watching crimson flow past silver splinters embedded under his skin. Viktor pressed his lips together firmly as Yurio coughed gently, “Always?”

Yuuri nodded softly, “Always.”

Viktor grabbed another towel off the floor, wrapping it gently around the boy’s hand. “And forever,” he added.


	3. Head Under Water...

He couldn’t breathe. All the oxygen had been sucked from the room and the little that had occupied his lungs, sat frozen as his fingers clenched the phone in his hand. He felt his hand shaking, making the letters etched across the digital screen hard to read, despite having read the message several times. He tried sucking in a harsh breath but all that came out was a small strangled choking noise that caused Yuuri to glance up from his magazine a few feet away.

“Yurio?” Yuuri asked softly, setting his magazine down on the coffee table gently, his eyes now fixated on the pale teenager. Yurio clenched the phone harder in his hand until he was sure the glass was going to break. He shook his head gently, clenching his other hand, feeling his fingernails digging into the scrapped flesh of his palm. He felt something wet coating his fingers, realizing he was probably bleeding, having opened old wounds. He coughed loudly, trying to force airless oxygen into his deprived lungs, finding it difficult to concentrate, finding it difficult to swallow past the lump forming in his throat. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and he flinched, jumping from the couch as the world suddenly came back into a blurred vibrant focus.

He gripped the phone tighter in his hand, shoving it back in his pocket as it vibrated again. He didn’t have time for this. He couldn’t have time for this. Not now. He stared at Yuuri’s face, concern and worry etched across his face, and Yurio felt tears welling in his eyes as angered frustration clawed at his chest. He needed to leave. He needed to get away from Yuuri and Viktor. He needed to be alone. He looked over at his bag lying haphazardly on the ground next to the couch, and walked over to it stiffly, picking it up, his hand still clutching his phone tightly. The edge of the phone was beginning to dig into his flesh, and Yurio shoved his shoes on his feet harshly as the message flashed across his mind again. He let out a strangled breath, biting his lip harshly, willing the tears that threatened to swell in his eyes to stop from spilling over their tired rims.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Yuuri make a move to stand and turned quickly towards the older skater, “I’m going to the rink.”

He winced as the words left his mouth harshly, and let his hand hover over the doorknob slightly, drowning out Yuuri’s endless yammering. He knew Yuuri was worried, but he couldn’t listen to him talk right now. He couldn’t listen to anyone right now. He needed to be alone. Otherwise…

“Yurio? Let me come with you-” Yuuri said softly, searching for his shoes.

Yurio shook his head quickly, feeling his phone vibrate again as another message reached the small device. “Nyet! I’m- I’m going alone,” He spat.

He unclenched his hand from the phone in his pocket and looked down to see the impression engraved deeply across his already raw flesh, blood was beginning to flow to the surface of the cut and Yurio clenched his hand into a fist, letting his fingernails dig into the exposed flesh; letting himself feel the pain. He needed to feel the pain. He needed to feel something, anything- anything besides the hurt and anger that flooded his mind, anything besides the pain clawing at his heart.

His phone vibrated again and Yurio ripped the door open harshly, biting his lip once more as Yuuri asked if he was okay. He sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the world around him closing in on him, knowing he didn’t have long… he needed to get away… he needed to be alone before he lost it. He slammed the door behind him loudly, pressing his back against the wooden door, slamming his head against the door, and pulled his phone from his pocket roughly. He let out a shaky breath and stared at the message painted across the tiny bright screen as tears swelled in his eyes, dripping down his face.

**Hi baby. It’s mom. I want to see you! Love you Yuri!**

Yurio wiped roughly at the tears that spilled down his face, unclenching his fist, watching the dark red drip down his fingers, seeping under his fingernails. He sucked in another shaky breath, running a hand through his blonde hair, not really caring if blood was now streaked through his blonde locks. He pushed himself away from the door gently, shoving the phone back into his pocket, and started walking towards the ice rink as Yuuri’s question echoed through his head. _Was he okay? No. No. He wasn’t okay. In fact, he was far from okay. He was fucking drowning._

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

He had turned his phone off. This was a brave move considering if Viktor or Yakov tried to call him, and he didn’t answer, he’d be in serious trouble. But he didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. He couldn’t talk to anyone right now. The only thing he needed right now, the only thing he wanted, was to be alone.

He stood in the middle of the ice, pushing his headphones in his ears harshly, pressing play on his iPod as _Asking Alexandria_ blasted through the tiny speakers. He let out a loud sigh, closing his eyes, listening to the loud music as chills washed over him, a million thoughts rushing through his head. He’d forgotten his jacket which was probably another mistake, but there was no way in hell he was going back. Especially since Viktor would be there now, asking questions.

He bit his lip as the music picked up and opened his eyes to look down at the dried blood painted across his palms. Faint bruising was evident under the pale flesh and Yurio winced as he tried scraping some of the red scabs away from the long cut. It didn’t hurt much, but the teenager still inhaled sharply as some blood slowly pushed through the new opening.

When they’d gotten back to Russia, Yuuri had taken Yurio to the rink while Viktor picked up Makkachin. Despite Yuuri riding Yurio to take it slow, the Russian Punk pushed himself harder than intended, wanting to make up for lost time since he was still recovering from his illness a few days before. Viktor had been quite mad, giving Yurio stern looks as he cleaned the fresh wounds scrapped into the teenager’s flesh.

Yurio sighed loudly, holding his breath for a few minutes as he glanced towards the empty stands. He knew no one was going to be here, but for some reason, he still felt disappointment eating away at him. He flexed his arms, raising his hands above his head. _He’s not going to be here,_ _Yuri,_ he thought. _Stop expecting to see him dumbass. What about her?_ Yurio swallowed, turning the volume up on his iPod, letting the music flow through his body, mimicking the sound as movements on the ice.

He felt his body begin to relax, his mind beginning to slow as all the frustration and pent-up anger left his tired body. He smiled slightly as the next song began to play, picking up speed as he practiced one of the routines him and Otabek had been choreographing together. He drew in a deep breath as he landed his next jump perfectly, excitement washing through his body. Despite having been here this morning, it felt good to be on the ice. It felt good to be here. It felt like home.

Yurio wiped some sweat that had begun to drip down his face lazily, stopping momentarily to catch his breath. He pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on, biting his lip as he waited for the screen to power on. He shook his head as he flipped through 10 missed calls, all of them from Viktor or Yuuri, and shoved the phone back in his pocket, flexing his shoulders. He spun freely, watching the arena spin in a multitude of dizzying colors, feeling his stomach protest the blurry scene. Yurio slowed, skating towards the edge of the rink as the next song blasted through the blue headphones, preparing to work on his jumps.

Confusion etched across his face as he tried to focus on the soft melody flowing through the speakers. He didn’t know this song… well he did, it sounded familiar but he wasn’t sure where he’d heard it from. He pushed away from the wall, picking up speed as he landed his first jump flawlessly. He licked his lips as he continued his speed, preparing for a triple axel, clenching his fists as realization washed over him. He knew this song. He knew it well. _On Love Agape. Grandpa. This was Grandpa’s song._

The Russian Punk sucked in a harsh breath as Agape sounded through his headphones, and Yurio faltered momentarily, changing his routine to a Double Axel instead of a Triple. His foot collided with the ice sharply and Yurio let out a soft yelp as his right shoulder smacked against the ice harshly. He groaned, wiping away some blood that was forming in his mouth and pushed himself up on trembling arms. He stood slightly, putting some weight on his ankle to judge if it was twisted, gasping slightly as pain flooded his ankle. He cleared his throat, standing straighter, wincing as something popped in his shoulder causing the Russian to drop to his knees quickly.

Yurio groaned loudly as tears filled his eyes, spilling down his pale face like melted ice cream. The teenager let go of his shoulder, sprawling his legs out in front of him quickly. He yanked his skates from his feet, throwing the metal shoes across the ice, watching it land several times, each with a loud thunk. He buried his head in his hands as he the music continued to play through his headphones, soft, sweet, and bitter. He ripped the headphones from his ears, throwing them across the ice harshly, hearing a soft crack as they met the cold ground. He didn’t want to hear that song. He didn’t want to remember. All his Agape had left the world when his grandfather died; and now the only thing left was bitter resentment, agonizing memories, and a broken heart. He sighed loudly as he fell back on the ice, wincing as his injured shoulder smacked against the solid ground.

He laid there like that for a while, staring at the white ceiling above him, listening to the sound of his own breathing, watching as tiny puffs of air formed in front of his face, disappearing a second later. Numb chills wracked his tiny frame as his bare arms laid motionless on top of the ice, causing the teenager’s teeth to chatter unconsciously. Yurio looked to his left to see his bag laying a few feet away, the cheetah print scarf his grandfather had made protruding from the open bag. Yurio grit his teeth. _It should have been you._

He sat up slowly, running a shaky hand through his hair as he let out a loud sigh. He pulled his phone from his pocket, feeling his bottom lip begin to quiver as he glanced down at the messages strewn across the small screen.

**\- Hey Baby! Call me. I want to see you Yuri!**

**\- Yuri, honey, it’s mom. Give me a call. Love you.**

**\- Yura, are you okay? Viktor wants to know. Call us, okay? – Yuuri.**

**\- Honey, I have something to tell you! Give me a call when you can! Love Mom.**

Yurio’s fingers hovered over the small keyboard as his thumb flickered through the messages quickly, skimming through them. He swallowed loudly as his phone vibrated in his hands and Yurio dropped it quickly; the small device smacking against the ground. The teenager wiped his nose on the bottom of his shirt as shaky fingers reached for the vibrating mobile. He coughed softly as the phone went dark, the vibrating ceasing and Yurio wiped at the remaining tears on his cheeks.

He pulled his right foot towards him, pulling his sock off gently, gasping as greenish purple painted the injured ankle. He touched it softly, relieved that a dull pain was the only thing he felt as he pressed his fingers against the bruise. It looked worse than it was. He would need to hide that, otherwise Viktor was going to kill him. Yurio let go of his ankle and pulled his shirt collar down slightly, frowning as the same purple, blue and green bruises met his eyes.

The Russian punk sighed loudly as his phone vibrated again, and glanced down at the mobile clutched in his hand, his thumb trembling over the “talk” button. _Micha._

Yurio pressed the answer button and brought the phone to his ear slowly, “H-Hello?”

“Hi baby! It’s Mom!” A voice echoed through. Yurio pulled the phone away from his ear, gritting his teeth as tears welled in his eyes again. He swallowed thickly as memories rushed back to him. 

"What do you w-want?” Yurio asked softly. He felt nausea course through him as he heard his mother sigh on the other end. He sniffed loudly, biting his lip as his mother’s face flashed in front of him. He hadn’t seen her in almost 4 years. Hell, he hadn’t talked to her in 6.

“I wanted to see you baby. I’m in town for a while,” his mom said softly.

Yurio shook his head, wiping his nose once more with the bottom of his shirt, “Nyet.”

The line was quiet for a few minutes and Yurio wondered if she had hung up. He heard a loud sniff, realizing she had been crying. “I heard what happened honey,” She whispered, “To Nikolai… I think we should meet baby...”

Yurio froze, swallowing back the sob in his throat at the mention of his grandpa’s name. _It really should have been you. You should be dead._ Yurio ran a shaky hand through his hair. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. Hell, he wanted to die. He felt like his world was closing in on him, eating him alive and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He sat motionless for a while, listening to his mother’s soft sobs on the other end of the phone. Guilt washed over him as Yurio let out a long sigh, “When?”

His mother sniffed loudly, “What honey?”

Yurio winced as he pushed himself off the cold ice, “When- when do you want to meet?”

“How about… Friday. Is that good honey?” his mother asked softly.

Yurio bit his lip as he bent down to pick up his skates and headphones, pain pulsing through his ankle sharply, “Yeah. Fine.”

He sniffed as he walked over to the edge of the rink, throwing the skates in his bag, scrubbing at the silent tears that painted his cheeks. He closed his eyes as he stood there, listening to his mother’s voice. God, it hurt to hear her soft voice. It hurt so fucking much. And yet he had missed it. He had missed her. He had missed her for a long time.

“Alright honey, I’ll see you Friday. I’m so excited to see you Yuri,” She said. Yurio bit his lips, opening his eyes, squinting as he the fluorescent light burned against his face.

“I’ll see you Friday,” He whispered. Exhaustion washed over him as all the energy drained from his body. The phone was shaking against his ear.

“I love you baby,” She said softly.

Yuri closed his eyes again, tears slipping past his long eyelashes. _I love you too,_ he thought. _But if you love me, why’d you leave me? Leave me with so much pain. Both of you._

Yurio nodded, pulling the phone away from his ear gently, pushing end call. He sighed again, opening his eyes, pushing the phone in his back pocket. He shoved his ratty converse on his feet and grabbed his bag carefully, avoiding his injured shoulder. He ran a hand through his sweaty blonde hair as he started towards the exit. _Friday,_ he thought, _fucking Friday._

…………………………………………………………………………….

_Viktor sat there, twirling his cold cup of coffee in his hands, watching the brown liquid splash against the side of the cup dangerously. He sighed loudly and turned to look out the window of St. Petersburg Café, watching the rain slide down the window, shielding the commuting public from his view. The door chimed again and Viktor turned towards the sound, smiling vibrantly as Nikolai stepped through, taking his coat and hat off before taking a seat across from Viktor._

_“Good Morning Nikolai,” Viktor said softly, sliding a cup of coffee towards the elder man. He watched as Nikolai studied the cup’s contents before taking a slow sip, setting it back down on the table gingerly. Nikolai ran his hand through his hair, sighing loudly, “Thank you for coming Vitya.”_

_“No problem. I was waiting for Yuuri’s plane to get in anyway, so I figured this spot would be nice,” Viktor said gently, taking a bite of his mostly eaten croissant._

_Nikolai looked around, smiling fondly, “I remember when this place use to be a bakery. They made the best Blinchiki. Milia’s, I think it was called. I used to come here when I was a boy. That, of course, was before the war…”_

_Viktor nodded slowly, letting the old man trail off, lost in reliving the past. He smiled warmly as Nikolai told him the story of how he used to flirt with the baker’s daughter, trying to score some free bread, among other things. He laughed softly as Nikolai closed, running his finger along the cup’s edge, “I’ll never forget the look on her dad’s face when he found us, covered in dough and flour. I was never allowed to come back after that, but my friends and I always managed to sneak in somehow. Oh, how I miss those days.”_

_Nikolai sighed loudly, rubbing his hands together and leaning forward, pressing his elbows on the glossy brown table. He cleared his throat, “Anyhow, how are thing’s going with you, my boy? How is that fiancé of yours?”_

_Viktor leaned back in his chair, running a finger over his engagement ring absentmindedly, a goofy smile masking his face. “He’s amazing,” he started, his eyes watching the small smile break out on Nikolai’s wrinkled face, “He went home to help his parents set up for their annual Hot Spring convention. Unfortunately, I was unable to go, Yakov wanted to set up a press conference to introduce the upcoming season…”_

_Nikolai nodded, stroking the end of his beard, “That’s good. I’m glad you are finally happy Vitya. You’ve come a long way from where you were a few years ago. I’m very proud of you.”_

_Viktor snorted, taking a sip from his stale coffee. Nikolai had always been supportive of him, even when it seemed like no one else was. Yurio was lucky to have him. He set the cup down on the table gently, glancing around at the tiny café. He shivered slightly as the door opened again, letting in the brisk October wind, cooling the warm coffee shop._

_He paused briefly as lightning struck outside, wondering if Yuuri’s flight would make it back tonight due to the weather. It had been storming the whole week, causing power failure throughout the city, forcing Viktor to maneuver around his apartment via candlelight. This wasn’t a huge issue except when Makkachin had tried eating several candle flames._

_Viktor ran another hand through his hair and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table softly. “I must say Nikolai,” he said, “I was quite surprised you called. We haven’t gotten together for years.”_

_Nikolai nodded, sighing softly, “I’m afraid I called with intentions, my boy. There are matters I need to discuss with you and I’m afraid I don’t have much time.”_

_Confusion etched across Viktor’s face, “What does that mean?”_

Viktor jerked awake, cold sweat plastered to his face as he thrashed about, pushing the blanket that covered him to the floor. He bolted up, gripping the edge of the couch as he tried catching his breath. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he looked around the tiny dark apartment. He had been waiting for Yurio to return from the rink, and after flipping through several television channels, he must have fallen asleep.

Viktor let out a loud sigh as he sat up straighter, touching his feet to the cold wooden floor. He grabbed his phone, clicking the screen to see the small digital numbers glaring at him. 23:43p. Viktor ran another hand through his hair and stood slowly, picking the blanket off the ground. He looked up as the door clicked open and watched as Yurio stepped through quietly.

“Where have you been?” He questioned as Yurio glanced in his direction before kicking his shoes off harshly. The teenager stood motionless, setting is bag on the ground gently before turning to face Viktor. He felt a shiver run down his spine as his eyes connected with Viktor’s, worry and concern masking the older Russians tired features.

“Nowhere,” the teenager spat, unzipping his jacket, wincing slightly as pain enveloped his shoulder. He took a step forward, faltering slightly as his ankle protested the harsh movement, catching himself against the small table next to the door. He threw his keys in the bowl, pretending to lean against it for a second. His phone buzzed again and Yurio grit his teeth.

“Nowhere?” Viktor stated flatly, “Yuuri said you went to the rink. He said you seemed upset. What happened?”

Yurio shook his head and turned to glare at Viktor. The older man crossed his arms, a serious expression painted across his face as he arched an eyebrow slowly. There was no way in hell Yurio was going to confide in Viktor, let alone in the middle of the night. _He can’t fix anything. He can’t fix you. You’re broken. You’re broken, beyond repair._

“I’m tired,”’ Yurio said. He dropped his gaze towards Makkachin, smiling faintly as the big dog tried to curl up in his tiny bag. He snorted softly, and flexed his ankle gently, walking towards his room, walking past the older Russian. His right shoulder was beginning to ache again, and despite smelling like sweat and wanting to take a shower, Yurio wanted to crawl into bed and forget everything, if at least for a few hours. He wanted it to stop. He wanted everything to stop. He felt a warm hand grasp his wrist gently, and he turned to face Viktor.

“Yura,” Viktor whispered sternly, “What’s going on?”

Yurio felt his body freeze. He felt his breathing catch in his throat as Nikolai’s voice echoed in his head...

_“Yurochka! What’s going on?” His grandfather asked softly, pushing some blonde hair away from his grandson’s face gently. Yurio looked away, tears spilling down his cheeks slowly as he took a deep breath. Chills washed down his spine as his eyes connected with his grandfather’s, and Yurio flinched as anger washed over Nikolai’s features. The teenager closed his eyes as his Nikolai’s thumb brushed against the small cut present on his grandson’s cheek…_

“Yuri?” Viktor asked softly, taking a step closer. Yurio ripped his hand out of Viktor’s grasp, smacking away the older Russian’s fingers as Viktor tried grabbing his arm once more. “Just leave me alone, da!” Yurio spat harshly, pushing away from Viktor’s reach. He bit his bottom lip as his phone vibrated again and Yurio backed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He winced slightly, hearing something fall in the other room, and bit his lip as Yuuri’s startled voice filled the tiny hallway, asking Viktor questions. _You woke him up. Good going._

The teenager stood there for a few minutes, waiting for the voices to die down, waiting for Viktor to knock on his door… hoping Viktor would knock on his door. He sighed loudly as silence filled the hallway and walked towards his messy bed, sitting on the edge. He slid his jacket off slowly, pulling his blue shirt over his head, wincing as his shoulder protested the simple movement. He turned on the bedside lamp and looked over at the exposed flesh.

Deep green and purple painted most of his right shoulder, spreading down towards his elbow. It looked worse than it had earlier, and Yurio inhaled sharply as he pressed along the bone in his shoulder, making sure nothing was dislocated or broken. He slid his sock off once more, probing the swollen ankle, pressing against the bruises, before leaning back against the cheetah pillow behind him. He glanced around the dimly lit room trying to make out Potya… no luck. She was probably under the bed, or Yuuri and Viktor’s room. Yurio sighed again and pulled his phone from his pocket.

He groaned loudly, seeing he had 27 messages, 4 missed calls, and 260 notifications. He threw his phone across the bed, deciding it was better to deal with it in the morning. He shifted till he was lying on his back, staring at the mini multi-colored Chinese lanterns hanging above his bed.

Yuuri and Viktor had gotten them for him after complaining about the closet light Yurio kept turning on in the middle of the night. The teenager had tried to convince them that he forgot to turn it off… but truthfully, he was scared of the dark. It was childish, he knew, but bad things happened in the dark. Monsters crawled out of the darkness… and Yurio had a lot of monsters. A soft smile crossed his face as he continued to stare at the lights. He told Yuuri he hated them and threatened to take them down almost every night, but honestly, he never would. He’d never seen mini lantern lights and he thought they were cool, he loved them. It made the small spare room feel like his.

The Russian Punk’s eyes grew heavy as his body fought the oncoming exhaustion and pain flowing through his body. He let the familiar colorful lights blur together, slipping from his sight as an unfamiliar darkness took over, painting his vision black as he closed his eyes.


End file.
